January 03, 2009

Dear Soldier Whom I Ignored At the Gas Station

I'm so sorry I ignored you. I really wanted to do that thing people
do, not the clapping-in-the-airport thing because we were at a gas
station, not an airport, and there weren't other people around to clap
with me and it would have looked sarcastic on my part (which it most
definitely would NOT have been), so No, not the clapping-in-the-airport
thing.

That other thing. The thing where I walk up to you, stick out my hand,
and say with reverence (and shyness, of course), "Thank you. I just
want to shake your hand and say 'thank you.'" And it would be barely
above a whisper, especially in the late afternoon wind coming off of
Clear Lake, and you'd say, "What's that again?" as you shook my offered
hand, and I'd get all embarrassed and probably over-compensate by
shouting it at you, word for lame word.

That thing. That Thank You Soldier thing.

But if you only knew me you'd be thanking me for not doing the shaking
hands thing because I was at that moment sort of covered in barf and
bits of sodden Kleenex, which would have put a definite damper on the
encounter, a low point even for a Middletown gas station. I guess I could have saluted you, but I really didn't want to get my hand that close to my face. I spared you.

I also spared you the shrieks of a mortified carsick child, already
cowering in the back seat of our car and trying not to be seen in her
undies, since her pants were stowed in the trunk in their new mantle of
partially digested cheeseburger and ice cream cone. Shaking your hand
would likely have brought attention to our car, doors open in the chill
January wind. It would have become a "what's that smell?" moment. I
spared you, and me, and the aforementioned (yet unidentified)
barf-covered half-dressed child.

So thank you for your service, young man, to me and my reeking family, and to your country. You are a credit to us all.

Marcy summed up my sentiments perfectly! Although, had that been me, I would have been too busy retching in the nearest trash can to even notice the soldier. The smell alone of the sick kid in the car would have done me in!

The fact that you even remembered seeing a soldier in the middle of your own personal battlefield is nothing short of amazing, but the fact that you feel bad for not acknowledging him is nothing short of wonderful.